Chapter 21 #2
His expression softens, a hint of relief flickering across his features.
“Okay, I’m glad,” he says, sipping from his mug.
“When she leaves, we can shower and go out. Let’s do something today.
” His suggestion catches me off guard. I’m used to spending my days off on-call or catching up on sleep, not out with someone who makes my pulse race just by looking at me. “That sounds perfect.”
Val walks back into the living room, her phone still pressed to her ear.
“If I didn’t clear you to swim for your meet, why would you think it’s okay to go splashing at a friend’s pool party?
I’m convinced something is seriously wrong with your brain, Marino.
You’ve got to be drinking chlorine water, because there isn’t another way to explain your lack of brain cells.
” She lets out a frustrated breath. “I’ll be there shortly.
” She ends the call and glances toward us.
“I would love to stay and chat, but my client is a fucking asshole who doesn’t listen to a word I say. ” She snatches up her crossbody bag.
Val gives me a quick hug goodbye, tells Vulcan to pass on her number, and then she’s out the door.
“I swear, she’s normally not this stressed,” he says, a wrinkle forming between his eyes.
As he stands, I do as well. My heart skips a little as Vulcan reaches out and gently tugs me closer by the hand. His fingers lace through mine. “Shower first?”
I answer with a nod and follow him through the penthouse.
As he turns on the water, testing the temperature with an outstretched hand, I can’t help but watch the muscles of his back shifting. He looks over his shoulder at me. “You can join me when you’re ready.”
I peel off his oversized T-shirt as he steps out of his sweatpants, then he pulls me into the steaming water.
The heat from the shower envelops us, mingling with the heat of our bodies as we stand there, skin against skin.
His hands roam over my body, tracing paths that leave shivers in their wake. His lips find mine in a tender kiss.
Water cascades over us as I moan into his mouth, one hand tangled in his hair while the other grips his shoulder for balance.
Vulcan breaks away only to linger on my neck, pausing at the sensitive spot just below my ear.
He knows exactly where to touch and how much pressure makes my knees buckle.
“I’ve been thinking about fucking you here all morning. ”
Seeing what he’s about to do, I place my hands on his chest, stopping him.
“Vulcan, your shoulder.”
“I’ll take all the pain if it means bringing you pleasure.
” He lifts me and he thrusts inside of me without warning.
Each thrust pushes us deeper into a realm of sensation and emotion that blurs the line between physical and ethereal.
I never thought sex could be like this, and I certainly never fathomed it being like this with a man I was marrying to fulfill a contract.
“You know what I want to hear,” Vulcan breathes between kisses.
I blush as the words of affirmation last night come rushing back to me but still manage to rasp out, “I’m strong, compassionate, brave, and beautiful.”
“Karina,” Vulcan mumbles. “You’re everything and more. Don’t you ever forget. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
With a powerful thrust, I’m pressed against the cold tile wall. My fingers dig into his shoulders, and his lips find mine again in a kiss that feels like it could both start and end wars—passionate, desperate, claiming. His movements become more erratic, a silent plea for release.
Vulcan presses his forehead against mine, his breath hot against my face.
“Come for me,” he whispers, a request that launches us both over the edge. As we slowly regain our senses, Vulcan gently sets me down. He wraps me in his arms under the warm cascade of water, kissing my forehead tenderly. “We should wash up,” he says after a long moment of comfortable silence.
I nod but nestle closer to him for just another minute longer.
Who could’ve known Vulcan’s idea of going out would be grocery shopping at Whole Foods.
But here we are, wandering the aisles as he pushes the cart and I toss in items more willy-nilly than I usually would.
It’s surprisingly endearing seeing him examine labels and occasionally furrow his brow in concentration.
He makes a face as I add another bag of granola to the cart. “Are you going on a diet?”
“I’m trying to make healthier choices.” I nudge him with my elbow.
“You can eat as much junk food as you want. I’m more than happy to help you burn the calories,” he replies, winking at me. “You know, we can start a new morning workout. Today can count as day one.”
“I bet.” I playfully roll my eyes as we move to the organic section, where Vulcan skips over the strawberries in favor of blueberries and places them in the cart.
“Hey, strawberries are the best. Grab a container!”
“I wouldn’t know.” He shrugs.
“What? You’re missing out.”
“I mean, sure. If I want to die of an allergic reaction,” he jokes.
I stop in my tracks, staring at him. “Wait, are you serious? You’re allergic to strawberries?”
“Dead serious. It’s tragic, really… denied one of life’s allegedly sweet pleasures.”
I reach for the green grapes instead, setting them in the cart. I walk farther down the section and stop, noticing Vulcan hasn’t moved yet. “Everything okay?”
“Do you not want the strawberries?” he asks.
“You just said you’re allergic.”
“You don’t have to stop eating them because of me. We just have to be more careful when you do.” He adds them to the cart.
I smile, satisfied. “Extra careful.”
As we navigate through the store, I find myself increasingly fascinated by him. We discuss meal plans with ease and chat about seasonings and produce. I even learned that he was on the verge of dropping out of the fire academy to become a chef.
“You seem to be getting the hang of this domestic bliss,” I comment.
“I think it’s growing on me—the idea of us like this.
” He gestures around the store and then back to the items we’ve combined in the cart.
“Simple things. Together.” I have to look away for a moment to compose myself.
When did shopping for groceries feel like another piece of home? “Karina,” he says quietly.
I look into his eyes as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. What he might regard as small acts of kindness or casual flirting, I perceive as expressions of love. Love and warmth are all I really need to be happy, and I’m once again terrified of this rise in affection I’m feeling for him.
“I just want you to feel comfortable. So, if you feel like I’m forcing—”
“No, this is fine. I just wasn’t expecting to come here. I thought we were going to get breakfast or brunch,” I admit. “But it’s been nice, really.”
“We can grab something to eat here. They’ve got a decent café out front, or I can make breakfast at home. Whatever you prefer.”
“Here, please. I’m starving. Last night and this morning have me ready to eat a cow. Para un viejo, el sexo contigo es una locura.”
“Not sure what you said, but I know sex was involved.” The corners of his mouth tilt up in amusement. “Come on, let’s get some food in that belly.”
I settle into a corner of the café as Vulcan orders us a couple of gourmet sandwiches and fresh coffee. The conversation flows freely as we sit across from each other, sipping coffee and sharing bites of our food.
“I like this,” I confess during a pause in our conversation.
Vulcan reaches across the table, his fingers brushing mine. “I like it too,” he agrees. “I know we started this whole thing with certain expectations and rules. But I want you to know that whatever happens, if things change… I’m here for you. Contract or not, I’ve got you.”
His words warm me more than the coffee ever could, and I pause to wonder whether he also feels this connection growing and strengthening.
“Thank you. I’ve got you too,” I whisper back, squeezing his hand.
After finishing our meal, we pay for our groceries and have a debate over ice cream flavors and cereal brands.
I can say with confidence Vulcan is indeed an old man. Who still eats butter pecan ice cream?
As he drives us back home, the groceries safely tucked in the trunk, I stare out the window and reflect on how far we’ve come in such a short time. Two weeks feels like months already. I can only imagine what the next three years are going to entail.
Pulling into the underground garage of the apartment building, he turns off the engine and gives me a long look.
“What’s wrong?” I prod him when he hesitates.
He smiles, then leans over to kiss me softly on the lips. “I think you should decide how to organize the pantry,” he says when he pulls back. “I’m shit at that stuff.”
I tip my head back and laugh. “Is this your way of saying I have to put away the groceries?”
“Hey, I’m helping take them up. That should count for something,” he reasons, then slips out of the car before I can needle him further.